arranged by the birds. Wearing what? A gold wood
grain and a few green leaves. "I have been in the forest
for forty years, it is time to send a message to the out-
side world." She takes her knife and carves a computer
completely out of wood. She raises her hands to type
a poem. When the poem is finished she "prints it out"
on a piece of paper still inside a tree. "Now I need
an email address," she thinks. "It is after all the Modern
Day." Many places in the forest want to be her email
...............address but after much thought she chooses
ababysparrowopeningitsbeaktogetaworm@arealtree.com.
She sends the tree with the poem inside it to The faraway
New Yorker. "I'ma gonna pooblish this," says Paul Muldoon,
running a hand thru his bangs! "I'ma gonna set this poem
to music," he says, and starts strumming a guitar that is
still inside a tree. Inside the tree feels like it's ROCKING
OUT and it trembles like a thing in leaf. Sasha Frere-Jones
reviews the song, he loves it so much and he says it sounds
"like worms being dropped in the mouth of a sparrow, except
this is a metaphor, so the worms are notes and the open mouth
is the public's hunger for excellent music!" Mary Ruefle receives
news of this in her email inbox. "Thank God for the internet,"
she laughs, and by internet she means a living tree
...........sucking silver water up itself from the rained-on ground.
